Of the Coming of Gilgamesh
by JoJo4
Summary: Eowyn's love for Faramir has no bounds, but will this be her undoing? slightly revised


_Author's Note: I don't believe that any post-Ring war fics ought to be sad, but after reading "Follow" by Sindrilo, I was disturbed by the suicides of the two characters, who by rights ought to have been happy. I decided to write this in order to attempt to make some sense of a double death. Thus, the situations in this story are not entirely mine, and I must give due credit to the author of said work. You may find "Follow" **here**._

Here follows a part of the tale of Faramir and Eowyn, which by some has been told more happily. Yet this is the account given by a later historian at a time when much sorrow had befallen the House of Mardil, and it seemed that no sunlight had ever touched the shadow of its years:

Now when King Elessar had established his house upon the throne, then the days of the ruling stewards were ended, and Faramir, son of Denethor, went forth from Minas Tirith, the city of his birth, to Ithilien, for the King had given him that land to be his fief. With him went his wife, Eowyn the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, in after days called "The Proud." Fair as a lily was that lady, and when angered as cold as the mid-winter's frost. Yet there was much love between herself and her husband, and between herself and her people also. Her deeds of valour are recounted elsewhere, but in seven songs there could be no end to the praise of her honour, courage and beauty. Alas that all three betrayed her to her doom!

Six years Faramir and Eowyn dwelt in peace at Emyn Arnen, and in that time Eowyn bore a son, whom she called Elboron. These were years of relative peace, although raids often plagued the lands between Ithilien and what had once been Mordor; and the helms of the White Company were familiar to all who dwelt there. Many times Prince Faramir could be seen at the head of his men and all knew he was a man well-versed in war, though he did not seek it willingly. When Elboron reached his fourth year, news came to Faramir that orcs were raiding upon his eastern border, coming across the ruined bridge that once had led to Osgiliath. Being a man of honour and bold, Faramir would have prepared immediately to leave with his men, yet he was loathe to leave his wife, who was again heavy with child, and so he sent them away under the command of his captain. Within a week after dispatching his company, Eowyn delivered a daughter, whom they named Morwen for her downy black head, but also for the ill-tidings that she heralded; for on the day of her birth a messenger returned saying Beregond had been waylaid and taken, and so left his men diminished and leaderless. Then Faramir said to his wife, "Now I must go, for I cannot longer keep apart from my men." And Eowyn, being no stranger to war might not have protested, yet a darkness crept over her heart, and she implored her husband not to go. She said to him: "My lord, never have you yet heard from me a plea to stay behind, though often you have ridden to danger. I have borne it better than any woman I know. But I have had a premonition of darkness, and I fear your going lest some horrible nightmare come to pass."

Yet, Faramir could not be swayed from his purpose. Nevertheless, he took her words seriously, and said, "If what you say is true, then it cannot be avoided, for I must be with my men. Yet for you and our children there can be no safer place than Minas Tirith. Therefore, when you have recovered, go to the King and await me there. It will ease my own fears to have you in his keeping." But he departed shaken by the foreboding of his wife, strongest of all women.

Two weeks passed before Eowyn set out with her children, but when she arrived, she found the King gone, having taken aid to her husband in the east. Yet the Queen Evenstar, who was her friend, welcomed her and asked her to remain at the palace rather than at the old house of the Stewards. Also there was the ambassador from Harad, Gilgamesh, the youngest son of Al-Almein, and a prince of his people. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his face was fair to look upon, though in his eyes there was an unnatural gleam of melancholy. Sorrows ever bound his heart, though no cause had yet been given.

To ease his troubles, Gilgamesh had taken to walking the paths of the city at night. But on the night of the Lady of Ithilien's arrival, he was unable to find even this small solace, for he had heard of the lady's plight and was even thinking in his mind, "What beauty is to be found in all this city? These splendid towers and her brave people if all that comes from it is jealousy and war? And now that poor woman has been separated from her husband when nothing at all should have the power to do so." So saying this to himself, he came upon the Houses of Healing in the sixth circle of the city, whither it seemed fate alone had directed his feet; and there he saw Eowyn of Rohan, but knew her not. She stood alone by the wall, all enshrouded by a cloak of midnight blue so that he saw only the pale countenance of her face illuminated by the moon. Such anguish touched her face that his own seemed but a paltry and vain thing. Thus, moved to pity, the Prince loved her. For many a minute he waited for her to glance his way, for he had come within sight. Yet her eyes remained on the East, and Gilgamesh did not know she awaited her husband.

The next morning he sought her again, asking all who came within sight after the young woman with the forlorn eyes. But they thought he meant a woman unmarried and a woman of the court, and answered that they knew not, for all at court were merry. So for two days he did not see the lady, and was beginning to think that she had been a dream, but then she appeared at the Great Hall, and sat at the left of the Queen. Then, leaning to the man on his right, he asked again the foremost question of his heart and received the bitter reply, "That is Eowyn the Shieldmaiden, valiant woman of Rohan who slew the witch-king, and she is in Minas Tirith with her children awaiting news of her husband." Then truly Gilgamesh felt as if he had been dealt some great blow, and spoke no more that night. Yet he said to himself, "Surely fate has marked me for ruin, for this is that same woman whom I wished never to be parted from her husband, and now I wish for nothing but his death." Thus he spoke, but feared that with his evil words he had pronounced his own doom, and so determined to think on Eowyn of Ithilien no more. But at that moment her eyes fixed on him for the first time, full of curiosity and amazement that she had not noticed him before, and Gilgamesh's fate was sealed.

Eowyn, for her part, liked not the look of the Prince of Harad, for too much did it remind her of Wormtongue, though she looked upon Gilgamesh with pity rather than loathing. She did not ask the Queen for his name, for his look was foreign and already there had been much talk of the strange visitor from the South. Therefore, she knew him without further inquiry, and knew also why he stared at her so unabashedly, but thought it would all come to naught. Thus all thought of the Prince was quickly lost in her own anxiety for Faramir, and often did she return to the Houses of Healing without thinking of who might be watching.

In the twilight of the last day of the fouth week she had spent in the city, Eowyn took up the cloak of Finduilas, the mother of Faramir, and went to the Houses of Healing. There she watched the endless roll of the Pelennor Fields where once she had ridden to death and glory, which she had then prized above all things. Yet now her gaze went further to the forbidding mountains; and as she was gazing in this direction, a long shadow fell over her and she turned around, there to find Gilgamesh the gloomy faced, and for the first time fear crept over her heart at his expression. Then she said to him, "What may you mean, sir, by coming so closely and without a proper greeting?" But when he said nothing, then Eowyn's limbs grew cold and would have taken leave of the Prince but for his quickness. For he had caught her hand as she turned and pressed it to himself, beseeching her pity and saying, "Forgive me, lady, for my silence. I did not know how to address such beauty." Then Eowyn did not fear him and replied thus with disdain, "A mountain, sir, may be beautiful, but you may not seize its hand. Nay, it must be admired in silence." And she left him so.

In the many weeks that followed they did not meet again, for Eowyn stayed within her chambers until it was rumored that she was ill. But Gilgamesh knew the truth and struggled with his passion in silence. No longer did his walks take him to the sixth circle, for he felt this was the private realm of the White Lady and wished to honour her wishes. Yet ever he felt as if some weight was pressing against him and some unspent desire beckoned him; and restless, he wandered about the top circles of the city, searching for something he could not find. A fortnight passed this way and then news came from the South that the Prince and his company had waylaid a large party of Orcs at the Poros and were now not even two days from Minas Tirith.

Hearing this, Eowyn once again ventured from the King's House, though she did not go lower to the sixth circle, and stood upon the turrets of the citadel, waiting for her husband and caring not who might bother her. And here she once again met Gilgamesh, but this time without fear.

When the sun rose next, Faramir returned from the South and took Eowyn and their children with him to their home in Emyn Arnen; yet from the towers of the city Gilgamesh observed them and his mind grew dark. Ignorant of this, Faramir said to his wife as they rode on, "Then your fears were all ill-founded, for have I not returned? And nothing has gone badly." Yet Eowyn remained silent, for she was uncertain; and ever was she aware of the dark figure watching her from the White Tower.

When they had been gone two days from Minas Tirith, Gilgamesh could bear it no longer, but rode out to Emyn Arnen to meet the victorious Prince of Ithilien. There he was given a hearty welcome, for Faramir did not know of his guest's desire, nor had Eowyn told him of it. A banquet was set out in Gilgamesh's honour, but all present thought it a somber occasion and strange, for the White Lady did not attend. And after hearing the grumblings of his company, Faramir went to his wife and found her in the chambers of their children. There he gently upbraided her for her ungraciousness, saying, "Wife, our guest awaits you, and all wonder why you do not come. Never before have you neglected your duties as a hostess, so must it now be said that in Faramir's house there is no welcome for strangers?"

To this Eowyn replied, "Husband, you wound me indeed. Chide me not for my failure, for truly I say that I have done well by you if you would not be shamed in your own house. Such would be the result of any meeting between the Prince and myself. Nay, let him wait in suspense. Say rather that I have been stricken with illness." And he, understanding at last, returned to the feast and conveyed her excuse.

Gilgamesh's desire, however, could not be quenched, and some power had laid hold of him that would not let him rest until he had caught a glimpse of the Lady of Ithilien. So, though he knew he would wrong his host, he slipped from the great hall, meaning to look his last upon Eowyn and then bid farewell forever. Through the long corridors he walked, hoping to find her by chance as he had before in Minas Tirith. But instead he found her chambers, unguarded and open, for Faramir had not secured it shut behind him.

Gilgamesh entered within, and so found her sleeping with her young son by her side and her daughter in a cradle by the bed. To him the picture was so idyllic, so peaceful, that he could not help drawing closer. Then a fool's fate stalked him as he crept to the side of Eowyn's bed. When he saw her lovely face so close, he could not restrain himself and bent to kiss her. But as he did, Eowyn's eyes fluttered open, expecting to see her beloved; but to see there instead the mournful eyes of Gilgamesh gave her such a fright that Eowyn cried out and struck him with her strong hands. O Lady, what misfortune guided them!

The Prince of Harad clutched his throat where she had hit him and collapsed upon the bed, for he no longer could draw breath. Eowyn's children had long since woken to the nightmare of their mother's deed, and a commotion was set about the household. Rushing to their chambers, Faramir found his wife by the body. With a groan, she called to him, "Ah, husband, I have destroyed us all."

To this Faramir said nothing, but instead ordered that the house be quieted as he pondered his course of action. Because he loved his wife, he would not have her be blamed for this misdeed; and even more because he loved his country and his King, he resolved that he would conceal the truth lest Harad sent its armies to seek vengeance. Then he and his most trusted guards took the body into the forest, set in it three foul Orc arrows and left it to fester. In the morning the servants found it within the darkest part of the wood and told their lord. Faramir feigned his surprise, but beside him stood his wife, pale and thin-lipped.

And so couriers were sent to the King of Harad, along with the body, yet he was suspicious and wondered what his peace-loving son should have been doing in a forest teeming with his enemies. Nevertheless, the honour of the House of Mardil was famous even in these far lands, and therefore Al-Almein dared not doubt the word of the Steward. And so he sent unto Faramir a reply asking for his aid in exacting vengeance, for it was in his keeping that Gilgamesh had been slain. Upon receiving this answer, Faramir turned to his wife and said, "Now here is a man asking me to swear vengeance upon the killers of his son, and I must do so to save us both, yet by taking this oath I shall doom us both anyway." Then Eowyn urged him to refuse, for some other wergild could be offered. And so Faramir relented, sending to Al-Almein the broken armour of seven Orcs; yet the King of Harad was not placated, and said, "As long as Orcs curse this world, so they make a mockery of my house, who have killed my son and remain unscathed. In my father's day we were allies with Mordor; yet they have proven no friends to my people, but are treacherous and without honour. So do I have double cause for wanting their demise, and therefore I shall accept no other wergild, though you might send hither your son to die under my watch that we might be equally wronged."

Then Faramir could not but accept, though by doing so he undertook great peril.

Upon the food hold of the woods he met the emissaries from Al-Almein and there they joined. One hundred men did they make together, forty from Harad and sixty from Ithilien. Faramir led them, for it was in his land that they fought, but King Elessar did not send soldiers since he disapproved and knew not Faramir's reasons for going.

For fifty days they scoured the land and found no one, until the Haradrim began to grumble that Faramir was leading them away from their enemies. They talked amongst themselves of the past treacheries of Gondor, seeing such things in the present as well, and began to speak of to taking Faramir from his command by force to see if they might find the truth. Yet the next day they came upon a small band of Orcs in the northern wood. The battle was sudden and without loss for Faramir or the Haradrim, and all seemed well. Thus the captain of the Haradrim sought the son of Denethor, and upon finding him he clapped a hand upon his back, saying, "Your debt has been repaid in full, for our Lord was merely testing you for some suspected deceit, and had you crossed us in our search we should have known you to be false."

Then replied Faramir, "How may it be that you have doubted my honour? Were I a man of a different disposition, we should now be locked in a struggle to the death for such words." To this the captain's face darkened, as one beset by an ill wind. "Nevertheless," said he, "Your honour was in question, but now that it is vindicated let us give no other reason for quarrel. Tomorrow we shall part ways in friendship, since my prince's murder has been avenged."

To this Faramir made no answer, but was sated. Yet the captain wondered at his silence and went to his bed troubled. That night a dream came to him of his prince, Gligamesh the son of Al-Amein, who, clad in a bloody cloak, was pierced by many Orc arrows. And from his mournful countenance poured fresh tears as he spoke, "Are you as one without sight? Can you not see what this man of Gondor has done to me?"

Then started the captain of the Haradrim from his sleep and he looked about him in confusion. Then he took his bow of pliant ash and four black-feathered arrows, yet not ones from his quiver. He took those of the slaughtered Orcs, whose weapons he and his men had taken as spoils of war. Then, taking aside his page, he gave these over with strict instructions to lay hidden within the wood until the Prince of Ithilien and all his men rode forth from their camp. Having done this, he returned to his tent and awaited the Dawn.

When Dawn appeared over the far horizon, the Haradrim bid farewell to the Lord of Ithilien and all his men. But before Faramir could disappear from their sight, a great cry went up that Orcs were attacking, for the Prince was slain.

The Haradrim mounted their horses and rode forth, but not to aid these men with whom they had parted in friendship, but to cut their lives in twain. So did the battle begin, but the captain, ignoring the commotion, found Faramir leaning upon his horse, yet still breathing, though many arrows had pierced his side. "Thus shall you die, murderer," said the Captain of Harad, "Thus as you killed my kinsman."

But Faramir had strength in him still, and drew his sword as he replied, "'Tis true he died within my care. 'Tis true that I die now. Yet it was not him who was betrayed." So saying, he brought up his blade and sundered the tongue from the captain's mouth. Then, seeing everywhere his men falling, he crawled into the saddle of his horse and ordered the retreat. Yet out from that fray only ten were ever to be seen again by human eyes.

Thus did Faramir return to his home in Emyn Arnen; and when the guards saw their great captain wounded and dying they became too distraught to sound the call for his return. Before the gates of his own house Faramir gasped out to his men the news of Harad's treachery. But to his wife he reported none of this, for his life was slipping away too quickly. A maid had fetched Eowyn from the house, and upon arriving at his side, she bore her bleeding husband from his horse. Then, setting him upon the steps of their home she wept even as she tried to staunch the flow of his wounds, and cried, "Faramir, beloved, what ruin has come upon us?"

And he wiped her tears from her quivering cheek. "Think no more on it," he said, "Life is but a passing dream. It fades too soon, and yet I think I shall remember you after it ends." Then she clutched his hand fiercely, saying, "I am no dream, but real and you shall stay with me here if I will have my way." But as she spoke, his hand in hers grew slack, and he passed out of the world forever. Then Eowyn forgot her children and her people and knew her purpose. She left his side to find her husband's knife, which was still girded onto his horse's bridle. Then she returned with the weapon, and sending away her servants she knelt by his body and set the point above her heart.

"Husband," said she, "It was I, who brought this upon us by slaying the Prince of Harad. So now you are dead and I am left to save the honour of our house. You swore an oath to slay the killers of Gilgamesh, yet here she is still living! Shall you be foresworn in death? Nay, lest the curse lie upon our house forever." So saying, she thrust the blade into her breast and fell dead over Faramir's body.

There she lay until the King came, who had heard of the treachery of the Haradrim. But when Elessar found the bodies of two whom he called friend, a great sorrow came over his heart and a fury ignited within his kingdom, for all had loved the Lord and Lady of Ithilien. And so before the night was over he sent a great army into the east, and another followed within a fortnight. So began the First War of the Fourth Age, of which there is an account elsewhere.


End file.
